


The Golden Promise

by methuselahsattemptatlife



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies)
Genre: Dragon Sickness, Erebor, Healing Love, M/M, The Lonely Mountain
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-20
Updated: 2017-09-24
Packaged: 2019-01-01 00:22:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 10,346
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12144438
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/methuselahsattemptatlife/pseuds/methuselahsattemptatlife
Summary: Erebor has stricken Thorin with dragon sickness. Bilbo's not done with the company yet; the dwarves may have the mountain, but they've all but lost their king...





	1. Chapter 1

 

Intro

 

 

There was a creak and moan in the dark halls of Erebor. It broke the eerie silence with harsh, sharp sounds, making those who dwelt within flinch. It jarred them from their brooding thoughts. The party of dwarves and one hobbit hovered together in rooms with fewer doors and lower ceilings, battling the dark as it nipped at the edges of their minds. It seeped from the poisoned gold below to the towering mountain above. They were trapped within the one place they’d fought so desperately to reclaim, and no amount of gold nor any promise of their kin’s army could lift their spirits.

Few remained unaffected by the haunting noises that plagued the Lonely Mountain. Among these few was Thorin Oakenshield, their king; the reason behind his immunity being that he was the main cause of their grief. Snared with dragon sickness, Thorin was determined to spend long days wandering the mountains of gold in search of the Arkenstone which had driven all other thoughts from his mind. He worsened every day. Nothing, not even the memories of his grandfather, had yet to cleanse Thorin’s soul of the blight.

His warriors silently kept to themselves, unable to reason with him. It occupied their every thought as they awaited the rest of their party from the destruction of Lake Town, dreading the possibility that their kin had not made it out alive and that their king might lead them all to their deaths in the protection of his precious gold. The only member of the party who could even get close to Thorin in the state he was in was the hobbit. After redeeming himself and proving his worth in the eyes of the king, Bilbo Baggins had been taken under Thorin’s wing – or rather, connected with him at the hip. No matter what Thorin said or what he did, Bilbo was always near at hand mostly to protect him from himself but also so that he was able to relay his stages of madness to his men.

Bilbo was short in stature and quite narrow in comparison to dwarves but he got around much easier without the bulk of armor or weapons that the dwarves tended to carry. Their form was formidable. He’d seen Fili have a thousand small knives taken off him once, and he was often mesmerized by their process of decorating for battle. Culturally they were so distinct from hobbits that Bilbo was baffled by them – they were similarly small and earthen in nature, but the similarities almost ended there. Dwarves were mountain men. Hobbits were peaceful country folk. Known to be light on their large feet unlike their brother dwarves, hobbits were widely underestimated creatures and Bilbo himself was no exception; although he’d killed for Thorin and his party Bilbo’s was a benevolent soul.

At first he hadn’t thought himself capable of violence. Yet he’d saved Thorin’s life more than once using violence, and he’d do it again in a heartbeat no matter what the consequences were. It wasn’t natural for Bilbo to use force and because of this it had taken a long time for Thorin to warm up to him. Thorin was a man of war. Bilbo longed for armchairs and books and long nights reading by the hearth fire. Still, here they were.

Bilbo was among the others with his worries although the darkness could not latch onto his little hobbit heart. As the others couldn’t understand where Thorin’s reason had fled to, Bilbo saw through the man as well as his sickness. Silent, pensive, Bilbo had been watching Thorin since they’d reached the mountain and even before then, just waiting for Gandalf’s warning to take effect. Being around Erebor had pushed Thorin into the sickness exactly like the wizard had said.

Before, Bilbo had seen Thorin divert from the party as soon as the dragon had been slain to rush back to Erebor, magnetized to the mountain and its immense wealth. Upon their return Bilbo had rushed off in search of the king and found him amidst his gold. Shadowing Thorin, the hobbit had watched him carefully gathering his grandfather’s things and donning them one by one: the king’s cloak and furs, the royal armor, the royal blades, and the royal crown itself. Thorin’s strong, thick hands treated each item with such gentle revere as they joined his person, changing him. Unfortunately, the change did not become him. He was no longer Thorin Oakenshield.

Now he was Thorin, King under the Mountain.


	2. Chapter 2

Only one day had passed since the dragon’s demise. Initially Thorin been willing to let Bilbo die in exchange for the Arkenstone, and now he was bathing in the glow of the gold as if it would whisper the secrets of the world to him. Bilbo knew in his heart that Thorin’s lifelong quest had been this mountain regardless of its gold and that the sickness was to blame for all his odd behavior. He didn’t, couldn’t, take it personally – and his goal now was to continue to look out for the king in his time of illness.  

In order to do this, he’d set out to find a better vantage point from which to watch the king’s wanderings. Bilbo tramped up and down the halls of Erebor, sniffing along the cold mountain walls. His cloudy eyes flashed in the dim light dancing off the stones as he glided along the ancient stone bridges overlooking the gold mountain. Leaning over the edge, he spotted Thorin halfway across the room, muttering to himself and wandering about. Bilbo gulped. Building up his bravado, he marched along the bridge until he was directly over Thorin. The king did not take notice of his presence. He was too engulfed in running the gold between his fingers, watching it gleam with a hunted smile pulling at his lips.

Bilbo took a seat right on the edge of the bridge. Glancing up, Bilbo blew an awed sigh at the expanse of gold that covered the room. Jewels, gemstones, and all manner of wealth spilled over the tall staircases and rose and rolled like the generous hills of the Shire. It filled every nook and cranny of the great room. Bilbo lowered his eyes to Thorin. The shape of his shoulders, the bow of his dark head… Thorin swept his cloak in a circle to gaze around him like true nobility. Bilbo’s heart softened. Still, he swore inwardly. He shouldn’t be allowing this to go so far. He might not know Thorin as well as the others, but his position outside the party gave him a strategic sway over Thorin’s opinion. He should be using it to talk the king out of this mountain - not allowing him to fall further into this madness.

 _What if he doesn’t listen?_ Bilbo thought doubtfully. The last thing he wanted to do was to anger Thorin enough to get himself thrown headlong from the party. _I have to try,_ he chided himself. _Before Thorin does something worse than just wandering around like a madman._

Bilbo cleared his throat awkwardly. Thorin continued to wander, seemingly oblivious of him, his own great heavy cloak rustling the gold pieces as it dragged along. He was murmuring under his breath and didn’t seem to be listening for any disturbances. That wasn’t like him at all. The hobbit shifted his weight and gathered more bravado before repeating the sound, only just a bit louder. When this too garnered no reaction Bilbo smacked his palms to his thighs, bent over like a man in pain, and called out, “Thorin!”

The king turned at last. His eyes flashed the deepest blue from beneath his dark brows and the pale, smudged planes of his face, lighting upon the hobbit in mild surprise. He said nothing at first, choosing instead to study the figure on the bridge as if it were unfamiliar to him. Then it dawned in his eyes. “Our burglar,” he breathed.

“Yes, it’s me.” Bilbo got hastily to his feet. “Can I… that is, would you mind if I had a word, Thorin?”

Inclining his head, Thorin glanced at the hobbit only once more before focusing back on his gold. Bilbo saw it fill his mind as he climbed down a column to join him on the mounds. Bilbo hovered close to Thorin, just in the corner of his vision, watching him closely. His intention was to gauge his mood before speaking but in this context mood meant nothing; Thorin could snap into a fit of rage or jealousy at the drop of a hat. In this case it was at the drop of a wrong word.

“It is radiant, is it not?” Thorin said absently.  

“It’s lovely,” Bilbo responded. “Fit for a king.” A smile winked from the lips of the dwarven king that gave Bilbo a warm feeling. There was more than a little to be enjoyed from eliciting such small graces in people. He laced his hands behind his back and leaned forward. “How are you feeling, Thorin?”

Shifting, the king barely rolled his shoulders. “Fantastic, now that I have my kingdom back,” Thorin boomed. “I never thought I would be standing here again, Bilbo. All my life since it happened… all my time was spent planning for this moment…” His lips parted. “It is more than I ever dreamt was possible.”

“Surely, you had no doubt you’d find your way back here again?” Bilbo pressed.

Thorin chuckled and cast his eyes on the hobbit in a way that Bilbo had grown very accustomed to. This gaze weighed heavily on Bilbo, a teasing glint in them which seemed to bore right through him and heat him from the inside out at the same time, but there was something mischievous and kind about it as well. It made him curious. Something intentional seemed to be behind that look. “Every man has their doubts,” Thorin murmured.

Bilbo’s Adam’s apple bobbed with his head. “It’s just that, well… you’re not really eating a lot, are you?” He forced. “I haven’t seen you touch a morsel since we arrived.”

The soft and friendly manner of Thorin’s lips pressed into a thin line. He turned away, intending to conceal the deep thought it took him to recall his last meal. There was only gold in his mind… only gold. His eyes flickered. “I do not hunger with the mountain underfoot.”

“Thorin,” Bilbo protested quietly. His face was concerned and sincere but Thorin did not see, he only looked stubbornly away.

“Leave me now.” Thorin moved away slowly. “I want to be with my mountain.”

Bilbo watched him for a few steps more with worry radiating from him in waves before turning on his heel and obediently heading back. Conflict churned within him. If he could not reason with Thorin now, he would try again later. He just needed a different approach. The halls echoed with his footsteps as he stalked back to where the dwarves were brooding. If he consulted Balin, he might be able to find a new way to get to Thorin’s reason. They looked up with surprise when he entered, hope blooming in their faces for news of their king’s recovery. Unfortunately there was none to be found in Bilbo’s stern features. Their shoulders slouched.

“Balin,” Bilbo said when he drew close enough. “Can I speak with you?”

Lifting his heavy brow, Balin glanced him over. “Aye, Master Bilbo.” He got slowly to his feet and followed Bilbo out the door. They walked through the intricate passageways until they were sure to be out of earshot of the company. “What’s the news of our king?” Balin whispered.

“He’s getting worse,” Bilbo answered quietly.

A cloud hovered over Balin’s great white head. “Worse?”

“He won’t eat, won’t sleep… I don’t know what else to do. I need your help. How can I _talk_ to him? What can I say to get through to him?”

“You’re not the only one racking their brains for a solution, laddie,” Balin said. “But we haven’t had any luck either.”

Bilbo sat on an overturned column, rubbing his face. “How long can this go on?”

“We knew what was in that gold. This may go on for a great deal longer than we’d like.” Balin shook his head. “Even our collected wisdom is useless against such maladies – such a madness is out of our grasp. He wouldn’t listen to his men, at any rate.” He shifted in the hall, listening to the echo it caused, when suddenly he stiffened as it struck with a great realization. “…But he might listen to one man.”

“What… what do you mean ‘one man’?”

Balin smiled at Bilbo, and it was the first ray of sunshine they’d seen in days.

Bilbo blinked. “W-What?”

“Have you not seen it?” Balin said secretively.

“Seen what? What are you talking about?” Bilbo demanded.

“Laddie,” Balin lowered his voice. “You must notice our king’s fondness for you.”

Staring at him, Bilbo rubbed his trouser legs. “Sure. I mean, sure I have. I saved his life, didn’t I? What does that matter now?”

Balin held up a hand. “I don’t think you’re understanding me. I’m not just talking about loyalty. I’m talking about _fondness_. _”_

Slowly, Bilbo’s face turned pink. “I don’t understand.”

“Yes, you do.”

“No, I don’t!”

“Bilbo, we haven’t got time for this.” Balin studied him closely. “You’ve struck a chord with Thorin and I think it’s time you explore that chord – if only for the safety and well-being of our king. He’s not going to get any better.”

“I know that, I just…”

Balin paused. “Will you not even consider it, before it’s too late?”

“I’m – I just-” Bilbo took a breath and wheezed. “Give me a minute.” He calmed his pounding heart with difficulty, the heat in his face intensifying. Thorin? Fondness? Of _him?_ Oh, no. The room began to spin. _That’s_ what that look meant. A hand landed on his shoulder and Bilbo almost jumped out of his skin. Stricken, he looked up into Balin’s face.

“Right. I’ll try,” he heard himself say, but inside he was cold.

“There’s nothing to be afraid of, laddie,” Balin smiled. “You could, in fact, do a lot worse.” He patted Bilbo’s arm before heading back to the others. “Good luck,” he said over his shoulder, a hidden smirk on his face.


	3. Chapter 3

 

Then Balin was gone. Bilbo sat looking from the direction he’d disappeared to the direction of the throne room. A whimper passed his lips. There was a lot about him and the other dwarves that he would never know – things they’d never openly tell anyone, not to mention him. But the idea itself… the very thought that Thorin was carrying something around with him that centered around Bilbo… it was terrifying and invigorating. He hadn’t allowed himself the luxury to assume anything about Thorin, but Bilbo had been pressing all his limits all this time trying to prove himself to Thorin for a reason. A good reason, at that. But… what was that reason?

In a flurry of movement, he launched himself to his feet and scrambled to gather himself together. He’d never really seen himself as a gifted fellow in mind, strength, nor looks, and yet here he was having run down packs of orcs alongside the toughest creatures in Middle Earth. There was certainly something to be said about that. He was tough, too. He could be tough. Bilbo marched right into the throne room but as soon as he caught a glimpse of Thorin, he froze stock still. His heart began to thump hard in his chest. He could barely breathe. _Thorin,_ he thought. _Thorin, Thorin…_ His feet began to move on their own. The gold was sore under his feet. Sliding, slipping he walked on, staring fixedly at the form of the king bent over his gold. He was unable to stop but also unable to comprehend what it was exactly he was doing. Thorin, strong and brave. Thorin, fond of him. Thorin, eyes like twin spears piercing through him. All at once they were a foot apart and Thorin was turning to look at him, anger in his eyes.

Bilbo gulped. “I’m worried about you,” he blurted before Thorin had the chance to chastise him. “I’m afraid for your health, Thorin.” He saw the anger fade from Thorin’s features. Curiosity replaced anger.

“You worry for me?” Thorin asked, bemused. “Why?”

“This place…”

“That is not what I asked,” Thorin interrupted. He barely tilted his head and this eyes seemed to glow. “Why must you worry for me? Am I so weak?”

“No!” Bilbo cried. “No, it isn’t that, of course not.” Thorin’s amusement only grew and Bilbo began to feel himself heating up. He cleared his throat. “You just… you never seem to think of yourself, do you?”

“And that is your job, is it?”

Bilbo glanced up at him with wide, cloudy blue eyes, his hands clenched at his side and his jaw tight. “We all think of you. Someone just has to do something about it.”

Thoughtfully Thorin studied him. A few different emotions passed across his face, and Bilbo’s hope mounted with every second that ticked by. Thorin took a deep breath. “Very well,” he smiled. “What are your orders, Master Baggins?”

“Rest. Rest and nourishment as soon as possible.” Bilbo exchanged a smirk with the dwarven king. “Sir.”

“Do not call me sir. I will eat and drink as you ask, but I rest when I please.” Thorin motioned with his hand. “Lead the way.”

Overcome with relief, Bilbo mentally wiped his brow. It had worked. He walked with Thorin towards the staircases only a pace or two ahead and grinned to himself nervously. There really was something to Balin’s idea of playing king’s favorite. He glanced at the ceiling and said a prayer to his maker.

 

 In the kitchen Bilbo sat Thorin down and began to talk to him about Gandalf as he ate. “I’m sure he’ll be back soon,” he was saying. “If something got in _his_ way, it won’t last very long.”

“How do you know the wizard?” Thorin asked, sipping his drink.

“When I was a lad, Gandalf visited my family with his homemade fireworks. They were a big hit among the younglings.” Bilbo smiled fondly at the memory, watching his fingers wring a dirty handkerchief. “He seemed to notice my rambunctious nature, which has all but passed now, mind you. He did manage to get me here, though.”

Thorin pushed away an empty plate and mug. “The wizard did not get you anywhere. It was by your own making that you ended up as you have, with us. He offered you a door. You simply opened that door… and went running through it,” he teased.

Bilbo laughed. “I suppose I did. But you know, it’s been a terribly long time since I did anything worthwhile with my life. Might as well risk it to help somebody else.”

 “You think so little of your life?”

“Sorry. I don’t, really.”

Pausing, Thorin put his palms to the table. “You have done a good thing in helping us reclaim Erebor.” Their eyes met. “You were a true friend to the dwarves when very few could be found. That is not a debt repaid lightly.”

Nodding, Bilbo smiled at him. “Well… I’m not done helping just yet.”

That smile seemed to have sparked an interest in Thorin. Thorin stared at him and Bilbo hurriedly looked down, avoiding the growing intensity of his gaze. Bilbo flushed scarlet. This was a lot harder than he’d found it to be initially. There was something formidable about the power held in those eyes; Thorin was a great deal stronger and more seasoned than he was. Meddling with his feelings like this wasn’t going to lead to anywhere good.

“You, um,” Bilbo shifted uncomfortably. “You’re sure you won’t rest? Now, that is?”

“I do not sleep until after my men rest.” Getting to his feet, Thorin didn’t take his eyes off Bilbo. His expression was unreadable.

Bilbo looked up at him, cowed. “We’ve all rested except you, Thorin.”

“It can wait,” Thorin said shortly. He swept out of the room in two steps, vanishing back into the throne room. Bilbo heard the sound of his boots crunching gold coins. Only then did he release the breath he’d been holding for heaven knows how long, shaking as he recovered his breath. He leapt a foot in the air as a pile of dwarves fell from the furthest doorway, spilling onto the floor in a series of cries and groans.

Bilbo gawked at them. “Were you eavesdropping?”

“We had to know!” Ori yelped, his young face barely bearded.

“Thorin walked off his gold at your request,” Balin said, brushing himself off. “We just wanted to see how far you could get him to go.”

“Not far,” Bilbo admitted.

“What are you talkin about?” Dwalin demanded, his great bald head like a cannon ball.

Nori with his triple pointed hair stared at the flushed hobbit. “You had him acting like himself again! What did you do?”

They all began to debate on what it had been that made Thorin listen, all bad theories and assumptions, but Bilbo ignored them. He had learned long ago never to assume anything about dwarves. He looked at Balin through the crowd. The old dwarf was smiling. In the sea of arguing bodies they were the only two who were immobile; dipping his head, Balin gave Bilbo a proud yet subtle nod.

Bilbo swallowed.

Then he did something strange; he left the kitchen and hovered in the doorway of the throne room, his eyes following Thorin as he continued his haunting wanderings across the horde, like the trail of a ghost through a cemetery. The man he knew was still in there. He’d experienced him just now, his generous and stubborn nature not yet returned in its full glory but certainly attainable. Bilbo had never considered someone as powerful and driven as Thorin to find interest in a little hobbit like him. But if that interest was there, he would not ignore it. It may be the key to returning their king to the way he was before… among other things.

Crossing his arms, Bilbo sat in a shadowy corner of the throne room with his knees to his chest. He had rushed to protect the young king despite probable bodily harm. He had fret over him, watched him closely, and been his confidant on more than one occasion. He’d willingly risked life and limb for Thorin personally, as well as the others, but not once had he ever imagined getting anything in return. Not once. He was afraid now. When Bilbo conjured Thorin’s gaze in his imagination it stirred in him things he hadn’t bothered with for a long time, longer than he cared to admit. He shuddered warmly. Was he ready for these consequences?


	4. Chapter 4

“Thorin.”

The king was seated on the last stone step before the golden sea. Turning, he glanced over his shoulder. Bilbo stood half shadowed on the threshold with a drawn expression on his face. He was recently washed. His chestnut hair dried in tight curls at the nape of his neck and his clothing was fresh, which was more than he could say of the others.

Clearly Thorin appreciated one of his party giving him small bits of company; it was late, nearly dawn, and he hadn’t been able to sleep. It appeared that the hobbit had not slept, either. Thorin’s deep, satin voice echoed in the empty room. “What keeps you awake?”

Bilbo wavered in place. He was torn between his discomfort and his desire to assist his dear friend; nothing was stranger to him than the affection of another man, but this was no ordinary man. And for that reason he had come. With soft steps he came to be seated beside the king with his arms at his sides. “I can’t rest until you do,” he replied finally, glancing at him.

That made Thorin crack a smile. He looked off into the distance. “Persistence will get you nowhere.”

“Why is that?”

“Bilbo,” Thorin warned. “I am my own man. I do what I please, not what others wish of me.”

 “That’s all well and good until your health is jeopardy,” Bilbo shot back.

“Enough, I tire of your nagging,” Thorin grunted.

Bilbo sighed through his nose. “I don’t understand you.”

Getting up, Thorin stepped away. “You do not need to.”

“I don’t see why not.” Bilbo watched him hesitantly and softened his tone to take the edge off of Thorin’s mood. “What keeps you awake?”

Silence. Hands on his hips, Thorin swung slowly to look at him in irritation. He was at a pivotal moment between moods; his nostrils flared, lip curling, and his fingers tips digging into his hips. Hot breath roiled from his breast. The only way Bilbo saw to draw him back was to smile. _Please work,_ Bilbo prayed. _Oh, please._

But not this time. Thorin turned his back, shoulders hunched.

Bilbo sighed again and looked down at his hands. He only knew so many ways to prod Thorin for information before he became infuriated and stalked off. Bilbo paused. Maybe it was time for a different approach.

“Can I… ask you something?” Bilbo bit his lip. “Have you got a wife somewhere? Stashed away, you know… waiting?”

“I never took a wife.”

“Really?” Bilbo was shocked. “How?”

Thorin began to pace, lumbering back and forth along the gold. “Never had the time.” He sent Bilbo a wary look. “I worked in the villages of men after the mountain was lost, doing blacksmith work and whatever else I could get my hands on. I had to feed my people.”

“What, human women aren’t fond of dwarven men?” Bilbo joked.

The king froze him with a glance. “I would never marry outside my kin.”

Bilbo gulped. “Right. The… bloodline and all. But you have no girl lined up for you? ‘The king’s future bride’ or something?”

“Why do you ask such questions?”

“Well…!” Bilbo blew his damp bangs from his eyes. “I suppose it’s because I’m not exactly a desirable bachelor myself. I feel better, I suppose, knowing a handsome king isn’t married before I am.”

Thorin paused.

Bilbo took this as a cue to keep going. “Not really an easy game, is it? Love?”

“Only if you play with the right kinds,” Thorin met his eyes. “Have you dabbled so in love, Bilbo Baggins?”

“I… well…” Bilbo coughed awkwardly into his hand and looked away. “I’ve had my fair share of trouble with women.”

After eyeing him, Thorin glanced at his boots. “Women are invaluable at a man’s side. They offer children, a clean house, a warm bed...” He began to pace again. “But the conscience of a man also requires company.”

“C-Conscience?” Bilbo stammered.

Nodding, the king paced steadily, his boots dragging across the gold coins and making them rattle together like so many pieces of glass. “There are many things that never escape a man’s heart,” he said softly. “Save in the company of other men. Trusted men. That conscience isolates us from our women… and makes us vulnerable to men.” When he finished, his eyes lit upon Bilbo, weighted and bare.

 

“I… see…” Bilbo’s heart began to beat very quickly and his face was on fire; it was amazing Thorin hadn’t notice his level of distress. But the dwarven king remained silent. Leaning forward, Bilbo tried to gauge if he was serious or not, then _he_ noticed how red _Thorin’s_ ruddy face was! Very busy turning red from the neck up, he hadn’t even noticed his own king blushing! The level of discomfort on the king’s face was laughable but Bilbo, valuing his life, swallowed his nervous giggles. “You’re serious,” he whispered.

“I never lie to my friends!” Thorin snapped. “Do not make me regret that!”

Bilbo threw his hands up in surrender. “Definitely not! I get it…! I’m just… surprised. Give me a minute to digest…” His head was spinning. Thorin, so strong and so brave. Thorin, fond of _him._ Thorin, his eyes like twin spears…

“…Is it really such a shock… that I enjoy the company of men?” Thorin’s soft, deep voice sounded so utterly vulnerable that Bilbo snapped from his thoughts at once. Their eyes locked.

Both of them were as red as beets.

Bilbo’s ears burned with blush when he watched Thorin’s wounded expression morph into surprise. Bilbo’s jaw dropped. “I…!” He sputtered. “Well, I…!”

“Bilbo,” Thorin breathed.

“No no no no, _nope,”_ Bilbo leapt to his feet and began marching away up the stairs. “I’m finished! You’ll not mark me tonight, King under the Mountain - _not on my watch!”_

Thorin stood silent and grim as he watched Bilbo disappear into the dark. When he was gone, he looked down at his hands and cursed. Grabbing his cloak, he swept across the golden sea, boots sliding along the loose coins as he stormed away in a fury, angrier at himself than anything else.

Bilbo hid himself among the labyrinth of passageways, humiliated and exhausted. Until dawn he did nothing but press his forehead to the cold stone walls in a futile attempt to cool his ever-burning blush. “No, no, no,” he pleaded. _“Please,_ no. Not me. _Please_ let it not be me.”

He begged to be delivered from this revelation for hours. The lamplight showed no indication of the break of daylight, but he knew when it was time for the others to rise. Ragged, guilty, he hid himself among the ruins of Erebor.

 When the party tried to question Thorin they got their heads bitten off. Confusion followed them all the way back to the common area, where they sat contemplating the fate of their dear hobbit burglar.

 

Hidden from the light of day, Bilbo stood panting in the dark, his body betraying him. What was this awful feeling in his gut? He leaned against the wall and touched his stomach with a shaking hand. His heart was twisted up into knots; his stomach was doing flips; and his entire body was flooded with adrenaline. He’d never felt this way in his entire life - and he was pushing fifty! A wave of emotion hit him like a tsunami. Tears welled up in his eyes as he crouched in the dark, leaning a shoulder against the wall for support.

“Oh, God,” he swore softly.

Almost a day passed this way. Bilbo grew weary and passed into unconsciousness in a dark hole somewhere, resting this way. When he awoke he was full of kinks. He groaned as he eased from his hiding place, rubbing his neck and all the sore parts of his body and he hissed pitifully. When he remembered why he was sleeping there he almost wished that he’d died in his sleep and never been found at all.

 _I have no choice, I have to go back,_ he thought miserably.

The party was astonished to finally see him. “Where’d _you_ go off to?!” Balin demanded, storming through the small crowd. The others respectfully stood back from his rage.

“I-I needed some space,” Bilbo spluttered.

Swearing, Balin covered his face with one hand. “You’ve done it now - driven him off! We couldn’t find _you,_ Thorin nearly beheaded the lot of us, and now _he’s_ gone and vanished! Maker only knows where he stormed off to!” The party stared at Balin in shock. “What did you say to him?!” Balin exclaimed.

“Nothing,” Bilbo whispered, breathless. “I’ll… I’ll find him. I’ll bring him back, don’t worry. Don’t…”

Turning, dazed, Bilbo headed back into the labyrinth. Thorin had run off looking for him no doubt to behead him as well. He ran through every room calling for Thorin. The dark met him with silence, just as it had earlier – only this time he cursed the silence instead of blessing it. Halfway back to the room he’d hidden in previously, the sound of shuffling footsteps caught his ear and he froze. Yes, there it was!

Bilbo whirled to follow the footsteps but there, standing in the hall, was Thorin.


	5. Chapter 5

“Wait!” Thorin boomed, a hand outstretched in the darkness.

 _Wait!_ _Wait!_ _Wait! Wait…!_ _Wait…!_ Bilbo froze. Panic welled up within him as the order to wait echoed into his ears from all sides, bombarding his nerves over and over until he was dizzy with fright. His chest heaved with breath. The floor beneath his feet seemed to slip and shiver. He couldn’t move, couldn’t act; Thorin stepped from the shadows to approach him, sending Bilbo’s heart into overdrive. The tide of emotions within him at once became unbearably strong. _I can’t stop them,_ he thought in exasperation.

He stared fixedly at the face of the king in search of his fate but when Thorin’s pale face emerged from the dark it was not clouded by fury. Deep circles like bruises showed starkly beneath his eyes, concern furrowed his brow, and the affection in his eyes was palpable. He approached Bilbo carefully. “I fear I have done worse than offend you, Bilbo,” the king intoned. “That was not my intention.”

Released from his terror, Bilbo put his hands on his knees and bent to catch his breath. “Sorry,” Bilbo wheezed. “I’m so sorry…”

Thorin stared at him. “Do not apologize - not when it is me who is at fault.” The haggard sound of Bilbo recovering filled the space between them. Thorin studied his face.

“Why… why do you look like that?” Bilbo said finally. “So guilty?”

Thorin said nothing. He’d searched for the right words and none had come.

Bilbo straightened up and put a hand over his pounding heart. _“I_ overreacted.”

“You are wrong about that.”

“What?”

Despite his guilt Thorin did not recoil from the topic at hand. He stood back a bit, giving Bilbo space, but his eyes held no shame in them. “You reacted appropriately. I was… am… a forceful man.” He searched Bilbo’s eyes. “Forgive me.”

“Tho… Jesus.” Bilbo felt himself flushing all over again. “There’s nothing to… Well, I forgive you… Thorin,” He pinched the skin between his eyes. “This is all new to me. I shouldn’t have run off, that I _am_ sorry for.”

“Do not be.” One step at a time, Thorin approached him. “I have yet to find a friend like you. My men… they follow me because I am their king. They believe in me and love me for that.”

“But not me.”

Glancing at him, Thorin shook his head. “No, though I know why you follow me.”

The king grew near to him and Bilbo felt electricity on his skin accompanied with a sudden urge which he found he could barely describe; he had to hold his hands at his sides to prevent them from reaching for Thorin’s fur-lined cloak. He wanted to attach himself to him, to draw him near - to what end, he feared knowing. The sway Thorin held over him was a power to which he was helpless against.

Bilbo’s cloudy blue eyes were as round as dinner plates when he looked upon his king and felt the reconciliation of his own feelings within him. His heart opened; his Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. “Because I believe in you, and trust you,” he whispered. “Because I love you.”

A cacophony of feelings burst forth from Bilbo’s chest upon saying those words and he felt his breath snatched away. They crushed him beneath their strength. His king; his ill king stood before him, less himself than he’d ever been, and yet the sliver of himself that could be felt blew him away.

Thorin grew close to him with a breathless expression on his face. There was fire in his eyes when he reached to brush a smudge of dust from Bilbo’s cheek. He looked deep into his eyes. “You are very dear to me, Bilbo.”

The hobbit was speechless. His body vibrated with the desires that seized him, every molecule in his body reaching for Thorin like helpless little magnets. Both of his arms were trembling. Stubbornly he held them at his sides.

“Why do you hesitate?” Thorin murmured.

“I am… terrified,” Bilbo wheezed.

“Of me?”

Shooting him a harsh glance, Bilbo’s lips pressed into a thin line. 

Thorin smirked good-naturedly. He drew away, brushing passed the hobbit as he left. His voice echoed once more as he retreated down the hall. “Take my words to heart, Bilbo Baggins.”

He was gone. A wave of relief flooded Bilbo’s limbs. As soon as he’d gone Thorin had taken with him all the warmth that the hobbit had and left him alone with his buzzing, desperate desires. Bilbo curled his hands into fists, bowing his head. Silence filled his ears and gloom filled his throbbing heart. What he’d done was restrain himself from someone he’d finally found a longing for – someone who was important and petulant, wise and stubborn… handsome and roguish.

Disappointment poisoned his relief and dripped over his heart like acid. He was a coward.

 

The day ended. Night drew in on them, and again the king wandered. His eyes were clouded and vague. Balin had tried to speak with Bilbo to no avail – the hobbit himself was spooked. He avoided all of Balin’s remarks and questions, going to far as to leave the room whenever Balin entered. Bilbo ate little, sighed often, and sat staring from the ramparts all evening until the sun had set and the birds had gone to bed.

Creatures of the night took up their routine cries. The endless expanse of the world stretched out before the hobbit rippling with fresh grass and rustling with fall’s nippy breath; all felt calm, gentle, and knowing. Bilbo’s eyes reflected the ruins in the distance but they were focused much further away. Not even the night stars could draw him back to present. Slipping from the ramparts, Bilbo wove his way back through the passages. There was no haste in his stride. He busied himself instead with Erebor. Ornate stone carvings covered the walls and the golden floor of the great hall gleamed like so many rays of starlight dancing upon its face, the ghosts of dwarves past so tied to their mountain that they were almost present alongside him. Truly it was magnificent, this ancient kingdom.

His eyes looked but his heart did not see. The beauty around him caused no great rush of awe or joy, only mild fascination which flickered and faded with each thought that passed through him.

He was of only one mind this day. All he could think about were the words of the king. Scenes of their conversation played on a loop in his head as he walked on, dragging his fingertips along the cold walls of Erebor. All he could see was the king’s face everywhere he glanced. Thorin was in every handsome statue, every mirror, and every crack in the mountain’s mighty face smirking down at him with a gleam in his eye. And all he could feel was the ghostly closeness of a body wanting him. Hot breath, boiling blush…

Bilbo stopped walking. He was in the far doorway to the throne room. It seemed every room but this was always empty; despite the common room having dwarves in it, it still seemed gapingly empty without the presence of its king. Just another consequences of the dragon sickness.

Putting a hand over his heart, Bilbo glanced around shyly. At once he spotted Thorin. He was seated on the throne with his knuckle leaning against his chin, lost in thought.

Half of the hobbit was burning with a desire that scorched his heart and sent his blood skittering through his veins. Although he knew it was wrong of him, he was desperate to see where else this strange fixation could lead. The excitement was drawing him in.

Truly, he hadn’t experienced such a love affair in years. He felt like a young man again. Normally, he liked the type of hobbit maid who flirted until the second date. Then she’d hand over very long list of his faults and promptly dump him.

This was different. Thorin had sparked something intense deep inside of him. It was a new yearning, a strange one, something which had him seeing stars over another man. The shock of that still held him fast. Never before in his life had he been attracted to a man.

 _Maybe you just never met the right one,_ he thought to himself, blushing. _How humiliating that I didn’t even know I was bisexual - I’m fifty, for Christ’s sake!_

The half of him that wasn’t totally turned on was petrified. Maybe he was afraid of what he might do this time. Maybe he should be. But that shouldn’t stop him from helping Thorin – and himself as well.

Bilbo’s train of thoughts ended when Thorin lifted his eyes and spotted him. The hobbit’s heart thundered in his chest and he grabbed a fistful of his shirt in his hand, twisting it up. _This is it,_ he thought.

He took the first step forwards. After that, each step became easier. Bilbo Baggins raised his head and did not hurry.

Patient, Thorin watched on. When the hobbit drew close enough he lowered his hands to the arms of the throne and he stood. The space between them dwindled.

Finally, Bilbo stopped a few feet from the throne.

“It wasn’t you I was afraid of,” he said.

Thorin’s smile softened. “I know.”

He stepped off the throne; his bulk glided to approach the hobbit. This time when Bilbo felt him to be near enough he let his hands reach out for Thorin, sinking his fingers into the fur lining of his cloak and drawing him closer than they had ever been. It wasn’t just their bodies that met but their hearts as well. Thorin’s arms encircled the hobbit, touching their foreheads together and they stood this way, eyes closed as they soaked in the warmth of the other. The way they touched hesitantly spoke of the love they had both fervently sought. And they became one.


	6. Chapter 6

Bilbo finally enticed Thorin to rest. Leaving the gold behind, they passed the night tangled in an embrace on the king’s discarded fur cloak. Thorin was feverish at first. He wouldn’t stop worrying himself over every inch of Bilbo and he refused to close his eyes against every entreaty from the hobbit. His touch was saccharine, so Bilbo humored his mood. It felt rather indulgent but neither of them were weary enough to sleep yet. So they lay brushing and breathing, all hands and hot blush.

It’s not entirely clear when they fell asleep. In fact, waking seemed to be quite blurry as well. Bilbo, bleary-eyed, was the first to rise. He shifted to relieve the pressure on his shoulder and bumped into another body; he snapped into reality. He was in bed. With another person. Slowly, slowly, he lifted his eyes to see just who it was radiating heat like a furnace and sharing his bedroll. He stiffened solid as his brain digested the peacefully dozing figure of Thorin Oakenshield at his side.

Memories of the night before rushed back to him in a hurry. He began to tremble all over. Him, sleeping alongside the king! Giddy, hyper with adrenaline, Bilbo struggled to stay still beside the handsome dwarf. He wiggled and twitched and did all manner of involuntary movements before deciding to get up and leave him to rest. Slipping from bed, he knelt there a minute to watch Thorin breathe. His great chest moved steadily in the dim light of morning, his mane of black hair spread over the pillows like a ray of light, and Bilbo noticed for the first time why Thorin Oakenshield was back. His king’s armor was gone. The crown lay on the floor alongside him and the fur cloak had become bedding for two.

In his tunic alone, Thorin finally looked like himself again.

Bilbo left him like that. Smiling, wrapping his robe around him once more, he slipped into the kitchen where the dwarves were breakfasting. Nothing was said. They welcomed him in their gruff manner and ate together rambunctiously. For some reason their spirits had been lifted. When Bilbo told them Thorin was asleep, they cheered, Balin included. He shushed them hastily. Shyly, they quieted down, jostling him about and grinning in congratulations.

“You did it, laddie,” Balin grinned, nudging him.

Biting into his bread, Bilbo tried to hide his smile. Yes, he’d done it all right. He’d gotten in deep with their king is what he’d done. What would they think about that? For now, he didn’t think about it.

He was talking to Dwalin at the table about two hours later about the battles he’d been in with Thorin when the king woke.

Thorin stepped warily into the light. His eyes were red from sleep. “How fares the company?” He boomed, and was immediately swarmed by his men. Gloin tried to wrestle with him and got playfully shoved off. They prodded and joked with Thorin about his mental absence, and he as he fended them off a grin stood fixed on his face. He made his way to the table.

Dwalin sat back down alongside Bilbo, patting his shoulder, and the hobbit’s unfettered smile shone. He glanced over to see Thorin coming through the crowd. And, without provocation, Thorin’s hand appeared out of nowhere and pressed on the back of Bilbo’s neck to pull him in.

Suddenly their lips met for the first time - in full view of the company.

It was a hot kiss, tender and short, the tickle of Thorin’s beard and sparks skittering across Bilbo’s lips as he instinctively responded. When the hand slipped away so did the kiss and, dazed, Bilbo was grounded back into reality. A collective whoosh of dwarves sucking in gasps was heard. The world was still spinning for Bilbo while the party exchanged awkward looks and struggled to go back to their breakfasts. Young Ori, unabashed, stared at them.

Thorin swung to sit on his other side, immediately starting a conversation with the others about their missing members. Have they shown? Has word been sent? Where are the humans now? Bilbo tried to listen but couldn’t. He was flushed with embarrassment. Thorin just... Thorin Oakenshield had just…

“They’ve been spotted a long way off, headed here,” Balin reported. “What’s to be done, Thorin?”

Pausing, Thorin glanced around the table. Some of them minded their own business. Most of them were staring between him and the hobbit, shocked, confused, or otherwise in a tizzy. He frowned. “Let us await the return of our kin before we make any decisions. I would hear their report of things beforehand.”

“What if they didn’t make it?” Ori piped up from the back.

Everyone hushed. Thorin looked at their youngest briefly. “They will return to us.” He met the eyes of the others. “We must have faith in them.”

With that, everyone went back to their conversations and Thorin tore into his breakfast. Bilbo sat awkwardly silent beside Dwalin. The largest dwarf of them had noticed his embarrassment and had turned to offer a comment to Bombur instead of make him feel even worse by continuing their previous conversation.

When Thorin had eaten he pushed away his plate and turned to Bilbo. “How do you fare this morning, Master Burglar?”

Bilbo stared at him. “W-Well…”

“Do not look so ambushed,” Thorin teased. “My men know me.”

“Do they?” Bilbo asked incredulously.

Thorin nodded, sipping from his mug. “They know how long it has been since I had another. They will understand in time.”

“Right. Ok.” Bilbo sighed, still blushing.

 

After breakfast, Thorin went into the throne room. Bilbo followed in order to be close at hand in case he began to regress. The king cast his eyes around the room. He seemed to slow down. His breathing became ragged. The weight of the gold began once more to way upon his heart and Bilbo was about to drag him bodily from the room when Thorin turned to him with kind eyes.

“What say you?” Thorin asked. “Will you help me plan for our guests?”

Relief smashed Bilbo in the face. He bowed low. “I’d be honored.”

Chuckling, Thorin walked with him to the throne. He took a seat and gazed at the ceiling as he thought. “I inspire my men the best I can, but they know as well as I that some of our kin may well not return,” he began quietly. “We must distract them from their grief by making preparations. Others will come for this mountain. We are very few. But if we allow the sons of man to take shelter within the mountain, they will be protected from the fighting.”

“Agreed,” Bilbo added, pacing a bit before him. “There’s also the elves to consider. They’ll want their starlight jewels back.”

“Find them,” Thorin ordered. “Bring them to me once you do. We will use them as our bargaining chip – and force them to fight alongside us in exchange for their kind’s priceless heirlooms.”

“You…? Want to ransom them?”

Thorin sighed. “No. If they will not help us out of their own good will, they should not be forced.” He scowled. “We give them the jewels and see what king Elrond has to say afterwards.”

Bilbo bobbed his head. “Right, ok.” As he turned to go, Thorin called him back. Bilbo faced him again curiously.

The king held out a hand. “Come here.”

Obeying, Bilbo approached the throne. The king was practically glowing. His entire being seemed to be on a steady recovery from the sickness and it showed in the brightness of his blue eyes and the alert intensity that made him so unique. Seeing him this way, Bilbo felt that same irresistible desire for closeness as he’d felt the night before in this very spot.

Thorin tugged the hobbit into his lap, making him yelp, and the kiss that followed was much tenderer than and twice as hot as the first. Bilbo felt hands on his throat and his thigh.

Their lips met just once but it was a religious experience for both of them, and as they shared intimacies in the empty throne room a few pairs of curious eyes peered out of the darkness. Bilbo shivered warmly as Thorin caressed him. Goosebumps pattered along his skin at each new touch and some previous ones as well; if he hadn’t been seated, his knees would have buckled.

When they drew apart to breathe Thorin’s eyes were boring into him. “Rest has brought me clarity,” he said. “And you were the one who brought me rest. Thank you.”

“I’m glad,” Bilbo managed. “I thought… well, we all thought you’d succumbed.”

“I know.” Thorin helped Bilbo to his feet again. “I was not myself. Forgive my lapse in judgement.”

Smiling, Bilbo rubbed his nose. “There’s nothing to forgive. Just… I’m glad you’re back, Thorin. Are you…?”

A smile winked in the king’s eyes. “Do not worry for me.”

“I will,” Bilbo shook his finger at him. “And you know I will.”

This time when he turned to go he did not look back, but Thorin’s smile was radiant.

Bilbo headed down into the gold to search for the jewels. He picked across the great room, entirely consumed with his work, but his mind drifted. He was buzzing with energy. A deep and affectionate contentment had settled over his heart. The disappointment he’d felt, the choices he’d made, the mornings antics, and even the futures choices could be seen clearly in his mind as simply steps to the final result. It all led to him and it led to Thorin.

Periodically Bilbo glanced up at him. The king had counsel with each of his men in turn; one by one they were dismissed and left to make preparations for the guests. Each left more relieved and impassioned than they arrived. Bilbo himself picked his way across the large room over the course of the day until at sunset, he stumbled upon the elves beautiful heirlooms.


	7. Chapter 7

Once preparations were made for the sons and daughters of man to reside within the mountain, most of the company hovered by the entrance pacing in anticipation of the return of their kin. All but Thorin and Bilbo waited. The new couple walked among the labyrinths and spoke quietly to one another, their fingers and shoulders brushing as they did.

“I think you should do what you think is best,” Bilbo was saying.

“I am not sure that I should,” Thorin admitted. “My men find me to be king with or without the Arkenstone, but will the others?”

 “They will.”

Thorin sighed through his nose and looked away. “You cannot know that.”

Pausing, Bilbo glanced at Thorin. “I can.”

“How?”

 Bilbo touched his arm and they stopped walking. He looked into Thorin’s clouded face. “From what I’ve been told,” he began, “your grandfather was a legendary king. Your father would have probably done just as well for himself had things turned out differently.” Thorin looked away again; the hobbit solemnly continued. “Having come back from dragon sickness, lead your kin halfway across the continent - while surviving more than your fair share of insanely dangerous situations - _and_ reclaimed your kingdom from the maw of a ferocious dragon, all in a state of near-perfect sanity, I’d say that you’ve already surpassed the both of them as King under the Mountain.” The surprise in Thorin’s eyes warmed Bilbo’s heart. “You are a legendary man, Thorin.”

The arrogance that normally backed most of Thorin’s confidence barely flickered to the surface at the hobbit’s words. He saw his own actions not as heroic but as necessary, and therefore his greatness had never occurred to him. It left him a bit shocked. Of course, he had great pride as a warrior and great confidence as a leader, but it was hard for him to think of himself compared against the two greatest figures of his past – his father and grandfather.

 Thorin felt a pang in his chest. _I wish dearly to have the company of my father again,_ he thought sadly.

A few moments of silence passed between them as Thorin turned things over in his mind.

Impatiently Bilbo scoffed. “Look - _Thorin Oakenshield_ doesn’t need a stone to prove to the world that he’s the sole king of Erebor.”

Thorin glanced at him. He nodded slowly. “Maybe not.”

“Besides,” Bilbo added softly. “Smaug knew what the Arkenstone would do to you. If you did find it, the dragon sickness that lies upon that stone would take you from us forever.”

His voice cracked just barely and Thorin’s rough thumb brushed along the cheek below his eye, as if wiping away invisible tears.

Searching Bilbo’s eyes and pushing the chestnut bangs from his face, Thorin looked at his hobbit intently. “I make you a golden promise, Bilbo - I will never allow anything else to take me away from you. Never again.” His breath became pained as he remembered his actions while he was ill and the following remorse. “I drifted within my diseased mind with no hope of finding land. I was volatile; I could not stop myself from thinking only of myself and my gold.” He shuddered. “I would not wish that sickness upon anyone.”

“Then it’s settled. The Arkenstone may stay lost,” Bilbo declared.

Thorin put an arm around his shoulders and they continued walking the halls, Bilbo’s arm snaking around his waist. They glanced at the preparations the men had made in each well-stocked room. They were almost ready. All they needed was the rest of their kin.

“Can I ask you something?” Bilbo said casually.

As they walked, Thorin’s heavy boots made footfalls which echoed loudly off of the stone walls. He hesitated at the request. “You may.”

“You said it had been a while since you’d had another. So you have been with other… men?”

An awkward silence put some space between them.

“I would tell you about the mistakes of my youth,” Thorin said slowly. “But they are no longer relevant to me.”

“But you have been?”

Thorin stiffened up, his past anxieties creeping back to him. “I have.”

“I’m just curious,” Bilbo insisted. “It’s not a big deal or anything that I know everything about them – in fact, we don’t even have to talk about it-”

“But I am your first.”

“…Yes.”

“Then it is only fair I be honest with you.” Thorin sighed heavily. “Where to begin?” He took Bilbo into the throne room. There he helped him sit on the throne, and Thorin himself began to pace the bridge. The air rushed to and fro around him as he breathed.

“After I lost my home,” he began, “I was deeply despaired. For a long while I did not speak without sharpness, nor did I move through my people without having to restrain my anger from them. I… could not easily cope with what had happened. I’d lost almost all of my family overnight; my mother had been long dead for years, and the other women in our family as well – birthing dwarven children is often hazardous – so we had no one to continue the bloodline of Durin. Except… myself. Fili and Kili were so young then.

“I began to put too much weight on myself. I worked every job, became familiar with every family we had left, and had already begun to plan my return to this mountain. It was not a wise choice. I wore out myself body and mind. Still, I continued, too deep in my sorrows to see what was happening. That’s when I got involved with the first man.

“He was one of the others around my years who was dedicated to helping support our people. We had very few left after the battle, and the ones we did have were either injured or had families to look after. But not him. He was alone, like I was. At least… I felt alone in my grief.

“He actually felt my pain, having lost a young son in the battle, we began to talk briefly of war and loss. Soon I saw him often enough that we became friends. He seemed to understand me without needing to hear my words, and after such long isolation I was overwhelmed with a sense of relief and brotherhood.

“On top of that, I was not myself. The strain on my mind had made me weak. I could not see his true intentions.”

Bilbo noticed that Thorin stopped pacing. Frowning, the hobbit studied him. “What happened then?” He pressed.

Thorin hesitated again. “We drank heavily one night, and… he followed me home.”

Silence fell; Bilbo’s eyes were hard as Thorin turned to hide his face. Bilbo’s lips parted. “You didn’t want to, did you?”

Thorin was immobile. “…No.” He took a deep breath. “It was not until years later that I reconciled my feelings for him – powerful forces that had warred within me without end – and I came to terms with the truth of my being.” He turned to face Bilbo, his face unreadable. “There were women, but… I was with only one other man.

“He was a youth working alongside me in the ironworks. He became infatuated with me, following my every footstep so close that he often tripped, and I had to chastise him for his clumsiness on more than one occasion. But he was a persistent little bastard. Flowers appeared on my doorstep, baskets of fruit and bread – even handmade iron amulets were often hung on my door. I yelled at him, of course, to try and stop him. He refused. He was in love with me, he said, and his wild feelings could not be contained. I was baffled. It was very strange for me to experience that kind of courting as a grown man.

“He was kind, loyal, and handsome. I grew fond of his boyish love, and after two years of being pursued I finally gave him a chance.” Thorin began again to pace. A smile found him. “We were never intimate. All the same, he taught me many things about a man’s heart. I owe him much. If not for him my true being may have remained as volatile as a storm cloud forever.”

“Why weren’t you intimate?” Bilbo asked curiously. Under Thorin’s heavy gaze he felt flush. “N-Not that it’s any of my business.”

“He was too young,” Thorin admitted. “A human boy.”

“A hu…! Wow.” Bilbo whistled. “You dog.”

Thorin chuckled. “I assure you, I was mostly a bystander during that time. He was vigorous.”

He walked back over to Bilbo and they hovered close together. The hobbit’s brow furrowed. “But, you never… I mean, not with your own kind?”

“We were few. It was too much like a family.”

“But the women?”

“But the women, indeed.”

Laughing, Bilbo rubbed his eyes. He smirked at the king. “And now a hobbit.”

“Indeed,” Thorin repeated cheekily. He smiled as they shared a kiss.

“They’re here!” Came a cry.

Both of them looked up to see Ori standing in the doorway, breathless with excitement. “They’re back!” He cried. Thorin and Bilbo followed him back to the gate, where the dwarves were shouting happily and embracing one another with vigor. The couple parted to greet the final pieces of their company. Thorin went to his nephews and Bilbo smothered Bofur in an embrace.

“You’re back!” Bilbo cried.

“You’re all alive!” Bofur cried.

They drew together as they exchanged dragon stories and then Fili told Thorin about the humans resting in Gale town.

“No,” Thorin said. “Bring them here. Tell them Erebor has been expecting them.”

As Fili headed back out to tell them, Bilbo watched Thorin grin over all his men. A warmth spread from the bottom of his heart and it filled him all the way up.

 _Yes,_ he thought. _Just like this._


End file.
